


Did You Know?

by chicafrom3



Category: Andromeda
Genre: Backstory, F/M, Introspection, Resentment, Unrequited Love, season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-17
Updated: 2006-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-18 03:51:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/184667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chicafrom3/pseuds/chicafrom3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe Beka doesn't know Harper as well as she thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Did You Know?

"So," you ask, throwing back the shot of whiskey I've just poured you, "How soon will you be moving back to _Andromeda_ and selling this place?"

My hand freezes on the bottle of booze. "What makes you think I'm going to accept Dylan's offer?"

You laugh. Not your real laugh, but the bitter, mirthless sound I've come to associate with Seefra, because you rarely laughed like that before. "Oh, come on, Harper, I know you. You can never resist the siren song of _Andromeda_. You're going to accept Dylan's offer."

I force myself to smile and say, "Maybe you don't know me as well as you think, Beka."

"Oh, really?" You laugh again. "Name one thing I don't know about you."

One thing you don't know about me?

Easy.

Did you know that when I was born, my ma had me baptized Catholic? Me, my sisters, my cousins, all of us, baptized and raised in the faith as best as our parents could manage. And even now, sometimes when I'm afraid I pray, to the saints or Mary or Jesus.

Did you know that Common isn't my first language? I didn't start learning Common until after Declan and Siobhan died and my family left Dunwich for Boston. My first language is a bastard tongue with no name, the language Earthers speak when we don't want to be understood. My second language is English, my grandma taught all us kids, she said we were Americans and should know the language of our ancestors. Common came third. No wonder I suck at conjugating verbs, yeah?

Did you know I was born the fifth of six children? The only son and now, the only survivor. My sisters were all killed one way or another, except for Aiobh, who was dragged off by slavers and probably sold to some bastard with a predilection for mudfoot kids who thought she had a pretty face. In any case, now it's just me, and see what honor and glory I've brought clan Harper?

Did you know that one of my sisters was half-Nietzschean? Bet you didn't. My little sister Devlin was conceived when Ma was raped by some Dragan SOB who thought he had the right to do whatever he wanted to a mudfoot girl. When Dev was six or seven or something, she stole my knife and tried to carve out her boneblades. By the time she was nine-ish, she was already pretty much dead inside. But that didn't matter to my friend Tasha, who loved her. When Dev was maybe twelve, she was murdered by Nietzscheans for the crime of being a half-blood. Tasha cried for a full day, wouldn't speak to anybody for a week, and when she recovered, barely left my side. Until the slavers grabbed her, that is.

Did you know that my ma was roughly thirteen when my oldest sister was born? She was probably seventeen when I was born. She was twenty-six-ish the day she died. And my da was maybe a year younger than she was. And now I'm almost thirty, give or take, and you all still call me a kid.

Did you know that my parents died protecting me? I was one of a group the slavers decided on to fill their next order. My parents refused to let me go. Dev and Aiobh and I hid ourselves in a nearby crowd while the slavers tried to torture information out of our parents. Did you know that I saw everything they did to Ma, while Dev clung to me and begged me to _make it stop, please, Shea, make it stop_?

Did you know that my buddy Michael died on a cross in Fenway Park and it was my fault? I sold him out and he was crucified for it. Less than a week later, Jenna—his wife, the love of his life—married a spacer in order to get off our rock. All these years I've spent in space, including the years where I was famous as part of the _Andromeda_ 's crew, Jen never contacted me.

Did you know that I'm damned proud to be a Bostonian? Boston might be hell now, but it's also the once and future wellspring of all things good in the universe. I wouldn't trade my Massachusetts heritage for anything, including a decent, nonviolent childhood.

Did you know that I had a single great love of my life? Her name was Heather and she was insane and she was from New York and she nearly got me killed a thousand thousand times and she busted Mikhail's leg so badly he had a limp the rest of his life and I loved her. She had a self-appointed bodyguard named Sule who she was constantly trying to get rid of. She had a restless streak at least a country mile wide. She broke my heart repeatedly. I loved her.

Did you know that I asked Heather to marry me five minutes after I met her, and again every time I saw her after that? If all the times you've teased me about being a commitment-phobe is any indication, probably not. It's true. She never accepted—too attached to her nomad lifestyle—but I never stopped asking.

Did you know why I took the job with Bobby even though I knew he was psychotic and planned to dump me as soon as I outlived my usefulness? For one thing, I knew he was an idiot and figured I could outsmart him. But mostly, it was because of Heather. She had just left me—again—which broke my heart—again. Before she left, she offered to let me go with her. I turned her down, because Massachusetts was my home and I couldn't imagine leaving. Then Bobby made the same offer, _leave Boston_ , and I took it, because I wanted to prove myself to Heather. Prove that I could walk away, that I could be practical, that I wasn't some idealistic idiot.

Did you know that I never got used to Rev Bem? Years after I met him, just catching a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye would make my fight-or-flight reaction kick in. I managed to control it—barely—because I knew you wouldn't keep me onboard if I couldn't get along with Rev. But I never got used to him. Tyr or Rhade, either—I still see boneblades or smell Nietzschean blood and get jumpy. But I hide it. For you.

Did you know that I still miss Tyr? Even though he scared me? At least as much as you do. Maybe more. He was my fried. Hell, he was family. Rhade isn't family, not yet, maybe not ever, he's just the resident Niet. I miss Tyr. Bantering with each other, threatening each other, protecting each other, I just miss him, okay?

Did you know that I built Doyle because I needed someone to depend on, someone who would always be there for me to lean on? And now she's going to leave me. It's happening already. I can see it in her eyes. She's drawn to Dylan, like a moth to flame; hates that part of herself, but can't fight it. She doesn't want to abandon me but she will, because Rommie will, and what will it matter that I made her a blonde because you laughed and told me once that blondes have more fun? She'll leave and I'll be alone and there will be nothing left of Seamus Harper's sanity.

Did you know that over the past three years, I have told Doyle thousands and thousands of stories about my past? And that, inevitably, they all end up being about you?

Did you know that I drink myself to sleep now, and cry in my dreams? Because _you're back_ , it's everything I wanted so badly, and it's all wrong. You barely speak to me. You barely acknowledge me. When we _do_ talk, it's about shallow, meaningless stuff. Damn it, you're back, and I miss you more than when you were gone.

Did you know that I could fall for you, even now, if only you'd let me? Because, Holy Mother, Beka, you're beautiful and brilliant and talented and you have a good heart and I know I could love you and I hope to God I could make you happy because if anybody deserves to be happy, it's you. But you won't, you won't let me fall for you, because I'm the little brother, right? I'm the little brother and the comic relief and the best friend and the engineer and a thousand other things that all add up to it being your duty to protect me, and that makes me off limits. On top of that, your druggie daddy and your con man brother and your runaway mama and your long list of deadbeat boyfriends, they left you with a tattered self-image and emotional problems you drown in work and laughter and the shots of amber liquid I keep pouring for you against my better judgment, and I know how it is, Beka, because I'm the same, I handle my problems the same damn way. So you run to the bad boys who treat you like you think you deserve, the guys who'll use you and leave you and break your heart, and you turn away from the good guys who'll love you like they should. The guys who know how incredible you are; the guys like me. Because we don't feed your self-destructive impulses.

Did you know that, Beka?

Did you know that I love you?

Did you know that you're incredible and amazing and everything and you deserve to be treated like a princess or worshipped like a goddess and I have been in awe of you since the first time we met and I am still in awe of you now and it killed me to see you with Bobby and every guy after him because I know that you're killing yourself slowly with them and you deserve so much better?

One thing you don't know about me?

Rebeka, I could name a thousand without even trying.

But I don't say a word of this to you.

Instead I stop, and I remember.

I remember that you deserve better than me.

I remember that I am a half-crazed mudfoot engineer-turned-barkeep, and you are the best slipstream pilot the universe has ever seen and will ever see.

I remember that if I say any of this, you will leave me again, and I will not even have this pretense of closeness as your bartender.

So I say nothing. For years I have said nothing, stuck to my role, nudged you as best I could towards the guys who'd love you and away from the guy who'd break your heart. And that's still my role, to say nothing.

Instead I turn away, and put the bottle on the shelf, and force a smile, and say, "Actually, I like running the bar. I might hold onto it for a while longer."

"Sure, Harper." You laugh and it's almost real. " _You'll_ leave _Andromeda_ for a bar. Sure."

I love Andromeda, but here I have a pretense of connection to you, even if it's just pouring your drinks.

"You never know, Beka."


End file.
